Friendship, As Easy As Pi
by Caseyrocksmore
Summary: Charlie shook his head with wonder. He couldn’t help but think, "Him? Her hero? Hardly." Charlie meets a little girl at a lecture who might change his life forever. R&R!
1. Old Fears, New Friends

**Friendship, As Easy As Pi**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Numb3rs, CBS, Charlie Eppes or any other of the Numb3rs characters. I do own the plot, Tyler-Jasmine Steele and any other original characters that may appear in the course of my fanfiction. This fiction was written for fun not profit, and I don't mean to infringe on any copyright laws._

_This girl's photo: www(dot)oshawacameraclub(dot)ca/images/2006salon/Miss Green Eyes-Don Wotton.jpg inspired Tyler's appearance._

_So here is my first Numb3rs fiction. I hope you like it. :)_

**Chapter One: Old Fears, New Friends**

Charlie straightened his tie in the mirror for tenth time, only succeeding in making it messier.

"But what if I mess up and bore those poor middle-schoolers to death? What if they laugh at me?" he whined, trying desperately to flatten his hair.

"You'll do fine, stop obsessing!" said Amita, fixing his tie and grabbing his hands, pulling them away from his hair. "You've given tons of lectures before."

Charlie sighed and let his arms drop to his side in defeat. "Not in front of children," he muttered, and Amita rolled her eyes.

"Children are just like adults... only smaller," said Amita. She gave him a peck on the cheek. "Now go, or you'll miss your bus."

Charlie took on last look in the mirror then rushed off to catch his bus to a middle school across town.

XXX

Charlie took one look at the school and was remind of his own school experiences. He shivered as memories of the bullying, taunting and ridiculing he endured came to mind. It was one of the reasons he still hated middle schools.

"Professor Eppes!" Charlie turned toward the source of the voice, a short, portly man with large round glasses and a bald spot of the back of his head.

"I'm principal Easton, but feel free to call me Freddie, everybody does," he said with a smile. Charlie extended his hand.

"Call me Charlie, then. I'm still getting used to 'Professor', and 'Mr. Eppes' makes me look around for my dad."

"Sure. Whatever makes your comfortable, Professor Ep...? I mean, Charlie." Charlie smiled.

"So, where are the little monsters?" Freddie Easton made a face.

"You might not want to let them hear you calling them monsters," he warned, "Fifth graders can be pretty vicious."

The expression on Charlie's face showed that he wasn't too happy with that prospect. Freddie noticed this, so he added, "But you don't have anything to worry about, of course." For some reason his statement did nothing to calm Charlie's nerves.

XXX

The auditorium was big, he noticed as he peeked from behind the curtains of the stage. Luckily he was only speaking to the fifth graders. There were about sixty of them, already seated in the auditorium. He didn't know if he could handle many more than that. As Freddie had said, fifth graders are vicious.

"They're only eleven," he said quietly to himself, "I can handle talking to sixty eleven-year-olds. How hard can it be?" He took a deep breath and walked to the podium that Freddie had set up for him in the center of the stage. He was aware that all eyes were on him, scrutinizing him. He slowly put down the papers full of math notes he had in his hands on the podium, then cleared his throat loudly.

"Okay, uh, hi," he started, unsure of where to begin. "My name is Charlie Eppes, and your principal has asked me to come down here today to talk to you about math."

A few eyes (no, more than a few. A _lot_) began to wander when he said the word 'math'. A few mouths began to whisper, and the focus on Charlie was lessoned, which he was surprisingly grateful for. He could give his speech and leave without embarrassing himself.

"There are many uses for math," he explained, happy that now very few of the students were actually listening to him. "Sometimes it even helps the FBI and the police catch criminals."

Charlie's eyes scanned the children's faces, eventually stopping on one.

She was small for her age, he could tell even though she was sitting. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and piercing green eyes that were watching him intently. In her lap was a notebook, and she was taking notes on every word he said.

He had been told that if you were nervous, to pick one person in the audience and give the speech to that person, pretending everyone else was gone. He decided to give his speech to her, because she seemed like the only one that was actually paying attention.

"My brother, Don, is in the FBI, and, more often than you'd think, math helps them find the bad guys."

None of the students, with the exception of the blonde girl, seemed to care about the many used of math. Freddie, the principal, was paying attention, but didn't seem to notice that the students weren't.

It was much easier to give the lecture once he picked a single person to give it to. He was on auto-run for most of the speech, barely looking at his notes.

By the end of the speech, Charlie was feeling much better and much more confident than before. Therefore, when he asked, "So, does anyone have any questions?" he was happily surprised when a lot of the kids raised their hands. He could feel himself grinning.

"You," he said, pointing to a red-headed boy in the second row. "What's your question?"

"You work with the FBI, right?" asked the boy eagerly, and Charlie nodded.

"Yeah, I help my brother solve cases using math all the time," he said confidently.

"So... do you get to carry a gun?" asked the same boy. This was followed by a series of 'yeah!'s and 'are you packing?'s.

Charlie closed his eyes for a second. _Calm,_ he thought, _so they don't care about math. Relate to them._

"Actually, I do have to carry a gun for protection sometimes. Not in public, but in the field? Yeah, sure I do. I had to take a course first, but that's just so I know how to use it properly."

There were some 'ooh's and 'ah's from the crowd of fifth graders. Charlie noticed the blonde girl's hand was in the air, and that she was patiently waiting for him to get to her.

"You, little blonde girl in the fuchsia blouse," he said, pointing to her, "You have a question?" She smiled shyly and nodded.

"Did you always want to work in math? Like, when did you realise you wanted to use math in your career?"

"I always liked math, and I was good at it, but I don't think I actually decided that it was the perfect career for me until, um... I was twelve, maybe? Closer to the end of high school."

The blonde girl nodded and made a note in her notebook. "Thanks," she said.

"Any other questions?" he asked. There were a few, but all of them were either about the FBI or what kind of gun her was allowed to carry.

When the presentation was finally over, Charlie was trying not to feel frustrated. He walked off the stage and automatically collapsed against the backstage wall. All the questions that had nothing to do with math left him feeling slightly drained and slight used.

None of those kids cared about what he had to say; he knew that giving a lecture to eleven-year-olds was a bad idea. Who had thought this could be beneficial to them somehow? They hadn't learned anything!

He put his index fingers to his temples and began to rub small circles on them. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the backstage wall, still messaging his temples. A few minutes passed like this.

"Ahem, Charlie?" Charlie opened his eyes and looked toward Freddie, removing his fingers from the temples and putting his hands on the floor beside him.

"Freddie," said Charlie. He pushed himself off the floor and stood, rubbing his hands on the front of his dark coloured jeans. "I was just—" Freddie put up a hand to silence him.

"No need to explain. Fifth graders can be tiring. I was just wondering if you could handle, err, one more." Charlie's eyebrows shot up under his curly hair.

"No offence, Freddie, but I don't think I can do another presentation like that; the kids weren't really..." Freddie chuckled.

"I didn't mean another presentation, Charlie. I meant... I mean, if you're willing, one of the students want to talk to you for a few minutes. She's the one who introduced me to your book and suggested I get you for the presentation in the first place."

Charlie relaxed. He had a feeling said student was the blonde girl. He smiled.

"Sure. What's this student's name?"

"Tyler Steele," said Freddie, "But most people call her TJ. She skipped a grade, so she's only ten... but she's the most intelligent ten-year-old I've ever met."

Charlie nodded. This 'Tyler' girl sounded a lot like him at that age. Though the name 'Tyler' automatically made him think of a boy, Freddie had said people call _her_ TJ.

"Sure, I have time." Freddie nodded and motioned toward the partially open door to the hallway. Tyler poked her nose around the door, then opened it fully and stepped hesitantly toward them.

"Hi, Tyler," said Charlie, bending down to her level and extending his hand.

"Hello, Professor Eppes," she said shyly back, tucking her notebook and another book safely under one arm and shaking his hand with her free one. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I read your book... it was really, really good. I learned a lot." She pulled a well-read looking copy of his book, '_Friendship, As Easy As Pi_' from under her arm and showed it to him.

"Please, call me Charlie," he said, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks. He didn't really like it when people recognized him for his book; it was an eleventh grade paper that he revised and then had published, he had only been twelve when he wrote it.

Tyler shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot before saying anything else. "Listen, would it be horrible for me to ask you to sign my copy of your book? I mean, I'd understand if you said no, but 

you're my hero and..." she trailed off, looking at her little pink running shoes. Charlie shook his head with wonder. He couldn't help but think, _Him?_ _Her hero? Hardly._

"Sure, I'll sign your book. It would be an honour." He gently took the book from her with one hand while digging through his pocket for a pen with the other. "I'm sure I have a pen here somewhere..."

Tyler reached into the pocket of her jeans and offered him a sleek black pen. He smiled and took it from her, then flipped open the cover of her book. He had never signed a book for anyone before. Larry occasionally had him sign his name on the inside of covers so that he could 'give them to friends of his', but Charlie knew he was really selling them on E-Bay. He had just signed his name then, but this had to be more personal. He had no clue what to write.

"Err, what do you want me to write?" Tyler shrugged. "Okay... how about 'To my newest and cutest little friend, Tyler, from Charlie Eppes'? Would that be okay?" Tyler nodded eagerly and Charlie quickly wrote the message down, then handed her back the book and the pen.

"Thank you, sir! You're the best!" she said excitedly. The next thing he knew, she had flung her arms around his chest in a big hug. He smiled and gave her a little pat on the back.

He looked up and realized that during the time he had been talking to his 'newest and cutest little fan' Freddie Easton had disappeared. Tyler let go at him and took a step back, grinning.

"Professor Eppes?" Charlie redirected his attention to the ten-year-old.

"Please, call me Charlie. Calling me 'professor' makes me feel all old and stuff." Tyler giggled.

"Okay, Charlie. You're nice. What's your favourite colour?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't really have one... why?" She grinned at him.

"I'm writing a paper on you for school. I got a lot of good facts about you from the internet, but convincing Mr. Easton to have you come here was the best idea I ever got! He said I could interview you after your presentation, if you were willing."

Charlie smiled. She was writing a paper on him? How cute! "Sure, you can ask me whatever you want. Wait, what do you know about me already?" She offered him her notebook, and he took it from her, flipping to the first page.

_My Hero: Professor Charles Eppes, by Tyler-Jasmine Steele_, was written in messy printing on the first line. He smiled and shook his head.

"Mind if I read what you have so far?" he asked and Tyler's grin increased.

"Oh, please do!" she said. "I'll get you a chair; you look so uncomfortable crouching like that." Charlie smiled and straightened his back so he was no longer crouching as she ran off. It _had _been getting a little painful the stand that way.

_Professor Eppes is a teacher at the California Institute of Science, better known as CalSci, and teaches applied mathematics. _Charlie felt himself smile. This kid was smart.

Tyler returned with a chair under each arm. She put on down beside him, and then the other one facing it. She sat down in her own chair and began swinging her feet back and forth because they didn't reach the ground.

Charlie sat in the chair she brought for him. "Thanks," he said, and continued reading.

_He is also the best-selling author of my favourite book, _Friendship, As Easy As Pi,_ and many notable papers. He graduated from high school at the age of thirteen, and published his first mathematical treatise in the _American Journal of Mathematics_ at fourteen, earning him the title of the youngest person to write a paper of importance, EVER. _

Charlie grinned. The word 'ever' was in capitals and had been gone over so many times it was approximately 3.27 times as dark as the rest of the writing.

_But it was his paper on the Eppes Convergence that concerned asymptotics of Hermitian random matrices which made him a star in his field._

_Following his five-year studies on random matrices, Mr. Eppes worked on sequences with orthogonal symmetry. He has also provided insights for possibly solving the PNP problem and published works on H-infinity Control of Non-Linear Systems and computational fluid dynamics, while his current research is in cognitive emergence theory. _

_Mr. Eppes is also a recipient of the Milton Prize, which is really cool. He has presented seminars on harmonic analysis and the zeros of random orthogonal polynomials and given lectures on group theory and Kac–Moody algebras. He has taught courses on calculus, chaos theory, fluid dynamics, game theory and probability at CalSci in addition to giving guest lectures on applied probability. The lecture in which he converted the classroom into a miniature casino for analyzing probabilities is considered an "Eppes Classic"._

He looked up from the notebook. "You found all this on the internet?" he asked, shocked. It was practically a summary of his life. Tyler nodded happily.

"I found lots at the CalSci website, and Google sites, of course. I also made a few inquiries—" Charlie had to stop himself from laughing as the ten-year-old used the word 'inquiry'. "—at your fan-club's website and they gave me a lot of information as to what you're currently working on and such."

Charlie handed the notebook back to her and shook his head in almost awe. "What else do you need to know? You seem to have everything about me pretty much already..."

"I'm supposed to know, uh..." She flipped a few pages forward in her notebook. "My hero's favourite colour, a brief biography, which I have, a short description, but I already know what you look 

like, their favourite pastimes, family relations, friends and other random facts," she said, holding up the notebook and showing him a list.

"Okay. I don't really have a favourite colour, but if I had to choose I'd say... blue. My favourite pastimes... I do math for fun, really. And hanging out with family and friends, of course. Oh, and I play basketball." Tyler was busy scribbling what he was saying down quickly, not wanting to miss anything.

"Family and friends?" she said hopefully, looking up at him with the biggest, more adorable green eyes he had ever seen.

"I have a brother named Don who works for the FBI," said Charlie. Tyler nodded.

"I knew that. You said so in your speech. What does he do?"

"Can't tell you, or I'd have to kill you," he said with a serious look on his face. She stared at him in awe for a moment before scribbling that down, too. He groaned. "Don't write that down, it was a joke!"

She looked up at him to see if he was serious, then quickly scratched that last line out. "Okay."

"My best friend's name is Lawrence Fleinhardt, but we call him Larry, my girlfriend's name is Amita Ramanujan, and my dad's name is Alan Eppes." Tyler nodded and wrote all that down, too.

Charlie was actually enjoying talking to this little girl. She seemed intelligent beyond her years; much like he was at her age. Freddie had said she skipped a grade, so he and she weren't really that different. Plus, she idolised him for reasons he couldn't fathom.

"How do you spell 'Ramanujan'?" asked Tyler. Charlie's eyebrows met in the middle as he thought.

"Ugh. Spelling is my worst subject." Tyler smiled.

"Mine too!" She made a quick note in her notebook.

"Okay. Ramanujan. R-A-M-A-N-U..." He stopped and thought for a moment, trying to remember what it said on her office door. "J-A-N. Ramanujan."

Tyler mouthed the letters and she wrote down Amita's last name.

"Anything else?" asked Charlie warmly. He was starting to like this kid. She was a lot like him.

"I don't think so..."

"TJ!" Both Charlie and Tyler jumped and looked toward the door, where a short, brown-haired boy stood. "Mr. Easton says you have to get back to class now." Tyler rolled her eyes but stood up anyway. Charlie did the same.

"Thank you for your time, Charlie," she said, extending her hand. He shook it. She turned and skipped out the door with the brown-haired boy.

Charlie shook his head then left also, running into Freddie Easton in the front lobby of the school.

"Charlie, I hope you had a nice time today," he said, running a hand through his thinning hair. "I know the kids did." Charlie smiled.

"Of course. See you around."

He left the building and took out his cell phone to call his dad to pick him up, as was arranged. Surprisingly, he actually had had a good time. Talking to Tyler had been enjoyable, and the lecture hadn't gone that badly.

He was still baffled by the fact that he was a ten-year-old girl's hero. Him, the math geek from California. It was mind-blowing. Yet, strangely, almost humbling.


	2. Breaking the Code

_Here's another picture of the girl who inspired Tyler: www(dot)oshawacameraclub(dot)ca/images/2007salon/Lisa-Don Wotton.jpg_

_Sorry I didn't update sooner, I've had so much going on, mostly with my other fanfiction, which take priority... anyway, this isn't a one-shot, it'll be longer later, as soon as I get around to writing more of it. So anyway, here it is._

**Chapter Two: Breaking the Code (Two weeks later)**

"Don! Hey Don!" Charlie called as he jogged toward his brother, then ducked under the yellow crime scene tape.

"Great, you're here. Same as the first and second," said Don as Charlie neared him. "Same victim profile, same writing on the wall." He gestured toward the bloody numbers smeared on the side of the building. "Different numbers each time. Have you made any headway on the first sets?"

Charlie sighed and shook his head. "It's a pattern or code of some sort. I' having trouble deciphering it, but I'm working on an algorithm to—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know." Don absently rubbed the back of his neck. "Do you know what kind of code it is, or...?"

"No, not yet, but I'm – I'm working on it."

"Hey, Don, look at this," Megan called from a few feet away, in the ally. "It's an inconsistency with the other murders." Don glanced in her direction, then back at his younger brother.

"Keep working on it. Don't give up, Buddy," he said, then headed off toward Megan.

Charlie flipped to a clean page in his notebook and began to write down the numbers written in blood on the wall. They were seemingly random numbers, some occurring multiple times with no apartment pattern. As he contemplated the code, he tuned out the outside world, focussing only on the problem. He could hear Megan and Don's voices in the background, but only caught snippets of their conversation.

"—the other victim's tongues were cut out, but this guy still—"

"—too much blood to just be from his sliced throat—"

"—the killer must have removed another body part—"

"—clothes are soaked with—"

"—yikes, poor guy—"

"—sick, twisted son of a—"

"How do you know it was a guy?"

Charlie shook his head and slowly came back to reality. The pattern to the numbers seemed almost impossible to figure out; they were different at each crime scene, possibly a new message, but they seemed completely random.

He'd tried applying game theory to them, statistical analyses, and everything else he could think of. It was useless. This code was either too complex for him to decipher— which he highly doubted— or it was just a random set of numbers meant to throw them off the killer's trail. Distract them from the bigger picture.

"Any luck, Chuck?" he heard Don say, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Don't call me Chuck," said Charlie, then sighed, "And no. I really don't think I can crack this one, if it is really a code. I'm not sure it means anything. Maybe it's just random numbers on a wall." Don closed his eyes and took a long breath.

"This is a serial killer, Charlie. He off pieces of his victims while they're alive, then he ties them to a chair in a public ally and cuts their throats. And then he writes these on the walls with their blood." He pointed to the numbers on the wall. "They've got to mean something. A message, a code, anything. But they do mean something." He seemed pretty convinced.

"I'll keep working on it. Wait— what did you say before? About cutting of pieces...?"

"The first two victims had their tongues cut out," explained Don. He had left that detail out when he explained the case to his younger brother, but now that it might have something to do with what Charlie was thinking, he might as well tell him. "This one was a little worse off." Charlie's eyebrows shot up under his curly mess of hair.

"Why? What did the killer cut off?"

"They removed his—" Don stopped, then looked at the gathering crowd of people behind the yellow crime tape. He lowered his voice. "They removed his... male... anatomy."

Charlie frowned. "Wow. That's pleasant," he said sarcastically.

Don nodded. "I know. I cringed when Megan figured out where all the blood was coming from. Poor guy. If the killer stuck to his... or her pattern, he was alive when they did it."

"Ouch," said Charlie, wincing. "You're right. This guy is pretty sick."

"Or woman," said Megan, walking up to them. "The ME puts TOD at somewhere between three AM and five AM, four hours before someone discovered him."

"That's consistent with the first two," said Don, drawing a hand across his face. "Three bodies in two weeks. We better catch this guy—"

"—or woman!"

"—fast." Megan glared at him.

"Why are you so convinced it's a man? A woman can do anything a man can do, and that includes murder!"

Charlie shook his head. Megan wasn't acting very Megan-like lately; ever since Larry had mentioned accidentally that there were more brilliant minds who were men in our history books. He hadn't known it would offend her, but ever since she had been pretty pissed off every time someone said anything on the matter, or anywhere close. Even Don's assumption that the killer was male set her into feminist-mode.

Don and Megan began to argue, and Charlie quickly removed himself from the situation, going to sit in his car and stare at the code some more, in hopes that he might solve it.

Nearly an hour later, Don went to Charlie's car and knocked on the window, startling his brother from his thoughts.

"You might as well go home, Chuck. You work better in the garage, anyway," he said, and Charlie groaned.

"Don't... call... me... Chuck!" he said as he tossed his notebook onto the seat beside him and put his keys in the ignition. He had borrowed his father's car— he still hadn't found one he liked, though he had gotten his licence.

"See you," said Don, unperturbed by his brother's reaction to the annoying nickname.

Charlie started the car and drove off, fuming. Not about Don calling him Chuck, no, he did that a lot. He was fuming, because after a whole hour staring at 

the numbers, he was no close to discovering their meaning. He couldn't crack the code.

XXX

At an intersection not far from his house, his cell rang. He flipped it opened and put it to his ear, thinking it was the FBI with updates. It was fun answering the phone with the FBI, because you could answer using your last name. Like you were important.

"Eppes!" barked Charlie, then grinned. That was so much fun!

"Hello, Charles, it's me," said Larry Fleinhardt.

"Oh! Larry! Hi. I thought you were the FBI again," he said, following the traffic and keeping his eyes on the road. "What's up?"

"Well, I arrived at your house a few minutes ago, and your father said that you should be arriving home soon."

"I am. I'm on my way."

"Good, because just after my own arrival, you got another guest. A delightful little blonde one."

"What?" asked Charlie, confused. He pulled into his driveway and turned off engine. "What do you mean I have a little blonde guest?"

"Just that! You have a tiny blonde person in your living room waiting for you to arrive at your place of residence. Such a scintillating mind, that one." Charlie gathered up his papers and got out of the car, closing the door with his foot, and holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder.

"Could you open the door? I have my hands full," said Charlie, still unsure of what his friend had meant. Larry hung up the phone and answered the door.

"That you do," he observed, kindly taking some of the papers out of his friend's hands.

"Thanks, Larry. Now what did you mean when you said I had a—"

"CHARLIE!" He was cut off by the squeak of a blonde-and-lime-green blur that came running out of his living room and flung her arms around his stomach in a tight hug.

"Oof," said Charlie, "Oh, Tyler." Suddenly he remembered the girl from his lecture two weeks ago. "What are you doing here?" Not that he wasn't happy to see the little girl, he was, he just wasn't expecting her to show up at his house.

"I thought you'd want to see how my paper turned out," she said, letting go of him. "I got an A!"

"Congratulations," said Charlie, smiling. Tyler grinned.

"What paper would this be?" asked Larry, interrupting them.

"'My Hero: Professor Charles Eppes', by Tyler Steele," said Tyler seriously, and Larry chuckled.

"Your hero, huh? You know Charlie, I think this one might just be the next Charles Eppes," he said putting a hand on Tyler's shoulder, and Charlie groaned.

"You remember what happened that last time you said that, right?" Larry's smiled faded.

"Oh, I had forgotten." Tyler looked from one professor to the other.

"What happened?" she asked meekly, eyes wide.

"Never you mind, Tyler." Tyler got the hint and bent down, picking up a notebook that Charlie had dropped when she hugged him unexpectedly. It was open to the first murder's set of numbers.

"What's this?" she asked, looking up at him. He put down the other stuff he walked to the dining room table and put down the other papers he had been holding, then bent down to Tyler's level.

"This is... uh..." He looked at what Tyler was holding. "A code that I'm trying to crack for the FBI." Tyler brightened.

"Are you finished yet?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Can I help?" she asked hopefully, and he sighed, looking up at Larry for help.

"What could it hurt, Charles? You've been working on that problem for nearly a fortnight. As long as you don't give her the details as to where the code was found, it really wouldn't be a burden to let her try..." said Larry, scratching his chin. Tyler grinned, then looked up at Charlie with her big, green eyes.

"Please, Charlie?" Again, Charlie sighed.

"I guess. I mean, it couldn't hurt..." But it won't do much good, either, he thought. It wasn't like a ten-year-old could crack a code that he, a mathematical genius, couldn't.

"Yes!" said Tyler happily.

The trio went to the garage, where Charlie already had the first two sets of numbers up on chalk boards. He took the down off the walls and put them on the floor so Tyler could use them, then took a third down and began to write the third set down.

Tyler stared at the chalk board and sat down, cross-legged, on the floor in front of it. "Did you try a letter-number code?" Charlie wrote down the last number and glanced up at her.

"That's a little too easy, I mean the ki—" He was going to say 'killer' but stopped himself. She was a little young to be hearing that. "—author would try something harder than that."

"I'm taking that as a 'no'."

She picked up a piece of chalk and along the bottom of the board wrote the numbers one threw twenty-six, then the corresponding letters underneath.

The first code was: '238514 2081521 199202051920 2015 5120 239208 1 182112518, 315141994518 491297514201225 238120 919 25615185 20855: 1144 162120 1 1114965 2015 20825 2081815120, 96 2081521 25 1 13114 7922514 2015 116165209205'. Tyler began to change the numbers into letters, starting with all the ones.

"Charles, can I talk to you for a moment?" asked Larry, and Charlie looked up at him.

"Uh, sure." He followed his friend out of the garage and back into the house.

"Where did you meet this...?" He motioned toward the garage door, "...prodigy?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"At her school. I have a lecture there, and then she wanted to talk to me afterwards because she was writing her paper on me. I was kind of baffled at the idea of being some kid's hero, but..." He shrugged.

"I was having a conversation with her before you came home. She has a brilliant mind for a ten-year-old. You may not want to dismiss her ideas so easily." Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Well, yes, she is a bright ten-year-old, but there is no way she can break that code if I can't," he argued, and this time it was Larry who rolled his eyes.

"You have a very high opinion of yourself, Charlie, and that's okay because you live up to it, but sometimes you just need to except that sometimes other people do know things that you don't. Or that other people might be able to do something that you can't."

"She's ten!"

"And you were thirteen when you graduated high school!" Charlie sighed.

"We'd better go check on her," he said, turning toward the door.

"Charlie—" Charlie turned to face his friend again, looking

"Come on, Larry! A number-to-letter code? No offence, but if I thought it were something that simple, I would have done it first. This is a serial killer case, Larry! Not some robbery or... or... I don't know. But someone who can get away with murder isn't going to make a code that simple."

"Charlie!!" called Tyler from the garage, and Charlie grinned.

"Yeah?"

"I'm finished!"

Larry smiled. "See? Maybe you should give her more—" he started, but Charlie was already gone, on his way to the garage, "—credit."

Charlie opened the garage door and his mouth fell open at what he saw. Tyler _had_ finished. She had written the corresponding letters under the numbers of the code in all three sets, and each made a sentence.

Instead of: '238514 2081521 199202051920 2015 5120 239208 1 182112518, 315141994518 491297514201225 238120 919 25615185 20855: 1144 162120 1 1114965 2015 20825 2081815120, 96 2081521 25 1 13114 7922514 2015 116165209205', the first one read: 'When thou sittest to eat with a ruler, consider diligently what is before thee: And put a knife to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appetite', which automatically reminded Charlie of a Bible passage.

Instead of: '2085 412519 156 152118 25511819 1185 208185519315185 25511819 1144 20514; 1144 96 225 1851191514 156 1920185147208 208525 25 615211819315185 25511819, 25520 919 2085918 1920185147208 1212152118 1144 191518181523; 61518 920 19151514 32120 1566, 1144 235 61225 123125', the second read: 'The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it soon cut off, and we fly away', which, again, sounded like it was from the Bible.

Instead of: '821192114419, 1215225 25152118 23922519, 10211920 119 381891920 1121915 12152254 2085 38211838 1144 71225 8913195126 2116 61518 8518', the third read: 'Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave himself up for her', which confirmed his Bible theory.

"See? Told you it looked like a simple number-to-letter code," said Tyler crossly, but with a smile turning up the corners of her tiny mouth. "I was right!"

Larry walked into the garage behind Charlie, and his eyes widened to match Charlie's. "Oh my," he said, and Charlie shot him a look.

"I guess it _was _that simple," said Charlie after a moment. "I disregarded that theory because I had high expectations of the ki—" He stopped himself again. "—author, but I should have known that the average person can't code anything any more difficult than a number-to-letter conversion." Tyler was grinning.

"So I helped?"

"Yeah, Squirt, you helped."

"Does this mean you can catch the bad guy now?" she asked hopefully, and Charlie blinked.

"Huh?"

"You said it was for the FBI— so this'll help catch a bad guy, right?" Charlie nodded.

"Right. This'll help the FBI catch the bad guy," he said, grinning. "You want to come with me to show my brother what a smart girl you are?" He was talking down to her a bit, but he couldn't help it. She was so little he had to resist the urge to baby-talk, and still he was using small words than he was used to.

"I'm not a baby, you know," Tyler pointed out, "But I'd _love_ to meet your brother. Can we go now?"

Charlie smiled. "Sure, but you'd better call your parents first and tell them where you'll be. Or, better yet, let me talk to them." Tyler's face fell, and Charlie stopped. "Your parents know you're here, right?" he asked, worried.

"Uh... doubt it."

"Tyler!"

"My dad is dead and my mother is in a penitentiary, but my foster parents know where I am. Seriously, chill! I'm not stupid. Darlene dropped me off." Charlie's heart broke for her. He hadn't known. How could he have?

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

"I can call them, though," said Tyler, ignoring his words of sympathy. "Where's your phone?"

"Here, let me show you," he said, going back into his house. He wondered where Larry had disappeared to.

He picked up their cordless and handed it to Tyler, who began to dial her number. It was then Charlie saw the note on his coffee table from Larry, saying that he had forgotten he had a class and had gone to teach it.

Charlie chuckled and shook his head, aware of Tyler talking on the phone.

"Darlene, may I go to meet Mr. Eppes' brother? Where? The FBI. I know it's cool! You want to talk to him? No? Okay. Bye. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'll call you if I need a ride home. Bye." She hung up.

"Darlene says it's okay, as long as I stick to you like glue." This got another chuckle out of Charlie.

"Okay, let's go."

XXX

"Don! Hey, Don!" called Charlie, seeing his brother down the hall after stepping on the elevator. He grabbed Tyler's hand and ran after his brother, who turned when he heard his name

"Hey, Charlie. Uh, who's this?" said Don, looking down at Tyler. She extended her free hand to him.

"Tyler-Jasmine Steele. Your brother is babysitting me." Don raised an eyebrow but shook Tyler's outstretched hand anyway.

"Don Eppes," he said, then looked up at his brother. "Why are you bringing a kid to the FBI? Better yet, why are you watching her in the first place?"

"I'm not. Well, not really. She came to tell me that her paper about me for school got an A, then we started working on the code from the serial—" He glanced down at Tyler and bit his lip. "You-know-what's, and she cracked the code. It was so simple; I don't know why I didn't do it in the first place..."

"Charlie," Don cut him off mid-thought. "Why don't you show me what you've found?" Tyler eagerly nodded.

"Can I show him, please please please?" asked Tyler letting go of his hand.

"Sure. Don, could you show her to the white board?" Don nodded and offered Tyler his hand, which she took, and they walked off toward the room where they kept 'Charlie's' white board.

Don handed Tyler a marker, and she started to write the translated version of the code on it (the sets of numbers were already up).

"See, it's just a simple number-to-letter conversion," explained Tyler. Showing him. "A is one, b is two, c is three, et cetera. Charlie thought it was too simple, but I guess the author wasn't as smart as Charlie assumed."

"Yeah," said Don, already flipping open his cell phone and calling Megan. "Hey, Megan— yeah, we've got a lead."

He left the room, talking to Megan on his phone. Tyler looked up at Charlie and grinned.

"Your brother's nice."

"Yeah," said Charlie, watching his brother leave, "Yeah, he is."


End file.
